Free Damaged by Troy McCombs Page A

shape.
    "And he flirts with other girls. He says he doesn't, but I know he does. I see the way he looks at Marsha.”
    "It's okay,” her friend said, "all guys are sex crazed—"
    — horns, claws, muscles...
    If you were my girl, I would not need to look at any other girl. You are perfect in my eyes.
    Erica walked up to the vacant teacher's desk, grabbed a few tissues from the box, and blew.
    — A severed human head, which was being held by this life-like demonic depiction.
    “ I just hate guys."
    "They don't treat you right," another of her friends said.
    "All after nookie."
    Lie.
    — Blood dripping to the soil below. Monster grinning.
    Adam wasn't aware of this, but the dirty mullet-haired boy sitting across from him sneaked a peek of his grotesque drawing and said, "What are you, a fucking devil worshiper?"
    By this time, Erica was walking down the aisle, had overheard him, and also glanced at the picture. Disgusted and arrogant, she looked at Adam and said, "He is a devil worshiper. I guarantee it. Weirdo—ewww, don't look at me!"
    Hurtful, untrue.
    Why, was his only question. Devil worshiper, weirdo, freak, loser, nobody, gay, faggot, sissy, pussy, wuss, idiot, moron, dumbass, assfuck, retard, piece of shit—
    Is it the truth?
    All I ever wanted was one simple thing... acceptance.
    Obviously inherited.
    Or maybe it's just me—I'm the mistake.
    Either way, something's got to give.
    ***
    Art whizzed past and math class dwindled away. Adam pretended to do algebra when he really wrote down an extra scene for a story.
    Five minutes prior to the final ring of the bell, someone knocked on Mr. Saunter's door.
    "Enter," the teacher said. The door opened and a kid stepped in, handing him a note.
    "Okay," he said, "thanks, Cindy."
    Cindy, a little revolting bitch Adam remembered from eighth grade, left.
    "Adam?" the teacher said.
    Adam looked up as if he was about to be attacked.
    "After school detention. No hall pass for walking out in first-period class?"
    That fucking old whore! All cause I wrote a simple story. Has anyone ever heard of self-expression? Art? A journey of the mind and spirit? Fuck that—I ain't going to detention for something I did not do. When the bell rings, I'm outta here.
    If only my mom knew how bad these people are, I'd never have to come to this hellhole again.
    The bell did ring. Adam did not go to detention. He skipped it like he knew nothing about it and went home.
    There were really few sights in the world more pleasurable to Adam than when he saw his house rising in the distance from between the Buxton's shitbox and the Longstand's white monstrosity during the bus ride back. This was, without a doubt, Adam's favorite part of the day.
    As he walked up his porch steps, cold but calm, he heard his dog Muffy barking and whimpering from within.
    Ahh... home at last.
    No more school books, no more teacher's dirty looks.
    He entered and took a big whiff. Muffy came running in from the living room, tail going haywire, her teeth revealed to show a cute doggy grin. Adam knelt down and petted her, kissed her. "Hey, Muffin, Muffins, Muffins! Whatcha doing, buddy? Yeah, that's my Muffyyy! Back from a week at the vets. I know, I know. I missed your, buddy. Missed you lots. I’m so glad you’re okay now.”
    She sniffed his leg, then turned and ran back into the living room, excited that her human brother was home. Muffy, the only dog he’d ever known—the only creature he would have given his life for—had had a tumor in her belly. But that was then. She was now healthy again, with many more doggy years ahead of her. The veterinarians had saved and prolonged her life.
    "Mom? Mooom?"
    Every light in the house was off. Adam just shrugged and ran upstairs. Before he made it to the top, there was a knock on the front door. Seven blows of brass against wood, parted gingerly—Chris’s usual knock.
    Adam went back down and opened the door.
    "Yo, homeboy!" Chris said, joking.
    "Whazzzzup, G-funk mothafucka